Jainan’s awake. Brace yourself before you read this.
Kiem’s surge of joy left as fast as it had appeared. He frowned and opened the clip.
It was a press cuttings file; not fringe newslogs, but some of the biggest outlets on Iskat and Thea. The moment Kiem recognized it as news he nearly shut it off before it could spread over the desk. But he’d left it a moment too long to cancel. The pages fanned out and settled in front of him. Kiem’s stomach gave a lurch.
Jainan’s face stared back at him from every cutting, from every newslog. The same photo: he was propped up in a hospital bed, looking directly, almost defiantly, at the camera. He had made no attempt to hide that the wrist lying across his lap was hooked up to a drip. The most shocking thing was what he was wearing—Jainan, who rarely let himself be photographed, and never in anything less than full formal dress, had let them take his photo in a hospital gown.
The first time Kiem tried to read the headlines, his brain rebelled, and he couldn’t take them in. His eyes kept going back to Jainan’s diamond-hard gaze. The biggest picture, the one Bel had placed in the center, was under the familiar green-and-black header of the Consult. The words next to it read, “TREATY REPRESENTATIVE ‘SETS THE RECORD STRAIGHT’： ACCUSES PRINCE TAAM OF ABUSE.”
Kiem stopped breathing.
The Consult was a restrained, respectable outlet. Their headline was the least sensational of the bunch. The rest of the articles started at “FREED FROM HELL” and went downhill from there. At first Kiem wondered wildly who had leaked this—who had done this to Jainan—but then he looked farther down the Consult article. A smaller candid shot showed Jainan and Hani Sereson talking in the same hospital room. Jainan had done this on purpose.
Kiem should be able to read the article. He didn’t understand why he was so afraid of it. It hadn’t happened to him.
He took a deep breath and made himself read it.
Jainan was very clear on who was to blame. He took apart Taam’s character—and Aren’s—like a surgical strike. Every time they quoted him, he was dry and emotionless, but the details themselves were blunt weapons. Taam’s monitoring of his calls. His order to revoke Jainan’s security clearance. Incidents both in public and in private. Set out in black-and-white with dates and places, it looked surreal, grotesque, and yet whenever it was in Jainan’s words he made it sound very ordinary, while Hani’s careful arrangement of the article threw his descriptions into stark relief.
Kiem and the rest of Iskat came out better than they deserved. Jainan carved out Taam and Aren like pieces of rot, separating them from the rest of the Empire and creating a story that both the Iskat and Thean press could swallow. He had decided to get the treaty signed and he had used his own past to do it. Kiem was torn between feeling sick to his stomach and being overcome with desperate admiration.
A side article showed a set of messages from Taam, though heavily redacted, since even the Consult was wary of the palace and the law. But Hani had done her legwork: there were confirmations of the events Jainan and Taam had attended, a physician’s record, a barely diplomatic quote from the Thean embassy.
Why now? Hani asked, in the last column. Count Jainan seems more intense, as if he’s been expecting this. “Because it’s over, and justice can now be done,” he says. “Prince Kiem has been a hero. The Emperor has pledged a full investigation. She has looked at the Thean treaty and promised further concessions to make up for this. Iskat is trying to bridge the gap.” Both the Emperor and Prince Kiem, his current partner, were unavailable for comment at the time of publication.
Kiem couldn’t bring himself to read through to the end. He swept his hand compulsively across the desk. The press clippings spun and winked out, but the burst of uncontrollable energy didn’t dissipate, just propelled him pointlessly to his feet. He leaned over the table and had to press on it to stop his arms from shaking—with what emotion, he wasn’t sure. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to fix the universe so the last five years had never happened. He wanted to find Jainan and kiss him.
He didn’t do any of that. Before he could get any further in his thoughts, the door gave a perfunctory chime and opened to admit Agent Rakal.
“Your Highness.” Rakal’s stride didn’t slow as they threw their wristband projection onto the small screen on the wall. “Her majesty wishes for an audience with you.”
Any similarity that had to a request was purely superficial. Kiem only had a couple of seconds to try and tug his crumpled shirt straight before the Emperor’s face was on the wall.
He bowed. Rakal, somewhat unexpectedly, went to one knee.
“Oh, get up,” the Emperor said. Rakal rose. Their jaw was tightly locked in an expression that, Kiem realized, looked a lot like shame. “Assigning responsibility will come afterward. Clean up this mess first. Kiem!”
Kiem jumped. “Ma’am?” Suddenly Rakal’s salutation didn’t seem like an overreaction. Rakal had definitely made some mistakes, but from the Emperor’s point of view, Kiem was the one standing by the blaze with a gas canister and an innocent expression. He was probably heading up the Least Favorite Relative list right now.
“Did you tell him to do this?” the Emperor said.
Kiem’s first instinct was to say, Do what? But Jainan had flung this up like a flare in the dark, and the time for cover-ups was over. “No,” Kiem said. “But aren’t you glad he waited until Taam was dead before he did? Did you volunteer to give Thea more concessions in the treaty, by the way? You’ll have to draft them fast.”
“Your blasted partner has left me little choice,” the Emperor said. “We’ll find them some baubles. The Thean newslogs are contacting me for quotes. There is a press conference directly before the treaty signing tonight. How you and Jainan conduct yourselves will be crucial for planetary opinion over the next few hours. Jainan has family in the Thean diplomatic contingent.”
“Oh, shit, Ressid,” Kiem said, dismayed. “Sorry. ’Scuse the language. Is Jainan…？”
“He will be at the opening press conference,” the Emperor said. “So will you.” She adjusted her old-fashioned glasses, grimacing. “So, of course, will every Thean and Iskat news outlet that can possibly scramble their staff to the station. I have decided you are the most appropriate one to deliver the official apology for his previous treatment.”
“Official—apology?” Kiem said, taken aback. It must be bad. Of course Jainan deserved it, but the about-face was so fast, he might get whiplash. “Yes? I mean, I’d be happy to, Your Majesty.”
“Don’t improvise,” the Emperor said. “I will send Hren to brief you. Listen to him and to Rakal, and do not even think of going off script. You have less than an hour to prepare—the Theans are arriving by shuttle even now.” She peered closer at the screen. “And what in Heaven are you wearing? Burn it immediately. Put on something suitable.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Kiem said, barely paying attention to the last part. “Can I see Jainan before the press conference? They haven’t let me see him yet. I know he’s awake.” He glanced sideways at that, including Rakal in the request. They were looking even more mortified at the talk of the official apology, though they must have known in advance.